The Bells on Christmas Day
by the shadow proves the sunshine
Summary: Chase’s Christmas Eves, past and present. A story of how he found faith, lost it, and found it again.


Summary: Chase's Christmas Eves, past and present. A story of how he found faith, lost it, and found it again.

Author's Note: This has been collecting dust for, quite literally, years. I decided to finally finish it, no matter how it turned out. Not exactly like I planned but then, when do our stories ever?

Disclaimer: I do not own House, any of the characters involved, or the song "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day." This story takes place shortly after episode 1.5 "Damned If You Do".

**The Bells on Christmas Day**

_I heard the bells on Christmas day  
their old familiar carols play,  
and wild and sweet the words repeat  
of peace on earth, good will to men.  
_

Robert Chase was fifteen years old and had never set foot in a church in his life. But as his mother laid at home, dying and drinking, he decided that this night was as good as any.

It was Christmas Eve. The shops along the street all had their fake evergreen trees plastered in the windowsills, and the bright red and green bulbs burned from every building. It was all so fake. He wasn't sure if it was his underlying distrust for religion that has been placed in him, or simply the fact that evergreen trees don't grow in Australia and there was never any snow that looked like the cotton placed under the decorations in the store windows.

He was skeptical of any religion at all, but Robert Chase knew that tonight, he just needed something to believe in. He had never prayed or read the bible, but he was willing to try both those things if it just gave him something to which he could cling.

There were three churches in the neighborhood, but only one was truly in walking distance. It was a small little catholic church. It was old and had obviously seen better days, but it still stood and was operable. Unlike most catholic churches, this one lacked any beautiful stain-glass windows or really any beautiful architecture at all. It was plain, white, small, functional, and simple.

Robert had never understood the willingness of most churches to keep their doors open at all hours of the day and night, but now he didn't even question it as he turned the old, rusted door handle. The state of dilapidation made him wonder exactly how big the congregation was on Sunday mornings.

The door creaked as he entered. The building was dark and cold, but one single light was on at the front. Chase couldn't help but to wonder if they left the light on at all times.

He sat in the very back pew, unsure of what to do. He didn't know why he had even come here. He glanced around, uncomfortable. He saw a bible on the seat next to him, but he was too uncertain to pick it up yet.

He bowed his head, making a motion as if to pray. However, he was afraid and had never been properly taught.

"God?" He questioned into the cold Christmas air. The silence that came back seemed deafening, and he suddenly felt incredibly stupid for trying this at all.

Hesitantly, Chase picked up the bible. Deciding that he would read something, he flipped to a random page.

Seeing that no one else was in the church, the young teen read out loud. "For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor heights, nor death, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."

_  
And thought how, as the day had come,  
the belfries of all Christendom  
had rolled along the unbroken song  
of peace on earth, good will to men.  
_

Sixteen-year old Robert Chase sat in the back row of the Christmas Eve service at the local church that he had steadily attended for a year. He had to sneak out of his house, but it usually wasn't difficult- once his mother was drunk, which was by ten o'clock every day, she wouldn't have recognize Robert from the dog.

For the past year, Robert had been regularly reading the bible he hid under his pillow. He wasn't sure why he bothered to keep it hidden- his mother would never find it. However, his fear came from the fear of religion instilled in him by his dad. For now, it couldn't be erased.

As he sat in the back row, his mind wandered from the sermon. He recalled that fateful day, exactly a year ago, where he had found a shelter from his own life. The church had seemed cold and bitter, but inside warmth had radiated him. It was then, staring at the pastor he wasn't really paying attention to, that he made up his mind to go to seminary. He knew there would be opposition- _oh, what his father would say! _But for once, he didn't care. The admission to himself made him feel free.

_And in despair I bowed my head  
"There is no peace on earth," I said,  
"For hate is strong and mocks the song  
of peace on earth, good will to men."  
_

It wasn't supposed to go this way. Ever since that one Christmas Eve where Robert had felt a type of inner warmth, a joy, from and for the Word, he had been driven by his faith. It had helped him pick up the empty bottles around the house; it had taught him the lesson of dependence on someone who would deliver; it had, in every possible way, saved his life.

But here he was, in a seminary chapel, and for the first time since he found faith, he felt alone. He saw the dry spirituality of his professors and classmates- some, teaching just because that's what they had always done, and some of the students studying simply because they had been pushed into it. They dissected and interpreted the word Robert he held so dear. He understood their point, but somewhere, inside, it crushed the spirit he held behind the calm façade he had learned to live with for years.

Their arguing and petty squabbles…it was emptiness defined. This wasn't what he wanted.

If this was life at the seminary, then. . . he didn't want to be here. He didn't want this life. A life full of dissection and dissention. No.

He made up his mind, that night to leave the seminary. He didn't realize he would leave his faith behind with it, but he did. Slowly, gradually, until it was just a vapor in his past.

_Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:  
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;  
the wrong shall fail, the right prevail  
with peace on earth, good will to men."  
_

Chase walked out of the hospital much quicker than he usually did. He hid beneath the façade he had learned so well, but he knew it was only temporary and he wanted to compartmentalize until he was alone.

He turned the key on in the ignition, cursing when it didn't start right away. As he sped toward his apartment, the words kept ringing in his head.

The prodigal son.

He had everything when he had faith, everything that mattered to him, and he left it. Left the seminary, left that life. He had instead traveled the way he had been directed all his life. Why? At one point, it was the last thing he wanted. He had never really wanted to become a doctor. He didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps. And yet he had.

The prodigal son.

Was this his return?

_Till ringing, singing on its way  
the world revolved from night to day, a voice, a chime, a chant sublime  
of peace on earth, good will to men._

Chase sank into the pew. He had never been in this church before, but it was quiet and close to his apartment, so he pushed away his discomfort.

He pulled an old, worn bible out of the pew and turned to the verse he had found so long ago. "No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

He smiled.

The prodigal son.


End file.
